


What a Strange Magic

by punk_rock_yuppie



Series: i'll tell you about the magic (it'll free your soul) [2]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Apologies, Demon!Shane, Figuring Out Powers, Gen, Get together fic, Human!Ryan, Humor, Lies, M/M, Podfic Welcome, Pre-Slash, Telepath!Ryan, magical creature au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-20 23:39:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15544779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: Ryan Bergara is the only human at the LA Buzzfeed office.His life is a lot more complicated because of this.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> so i've finally gotten into demon!shane, and i gotta say i quite enjoy it as a concept; thought it'd be fun to write, and what better way to do so than integrating it into my existing magical creature AU! you don't have to read _call it magic when i'm with you_ to really understand this, but it'll definitely give you some background. 
> 
> as a heads up: this is marked as 3 chapters, but the first 2 are gonna be posted at the same time. i'm still working on the third part. each chapter is basically a complete story on its own! they just flow together nice. 
> 
> big thanks to hannah for beta'ing as always!! 
> 
> okay, enough of my rambling. enjoy!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a world where fairy-tale creatures are your next-door neighbors, Ryan Bergara is trying to solve two mysteries:
> 
> One, whether or not ghosts exist. 
> 
> Two, what exactly his best friend-slash-coworker is, because Shane Madej is definitely _not_ human.

How, exactly, Ryan Bergara ended up the _only_ human in the entire office, he’ll never know.

It’s ridiculous, really. Statistics would make you think that, if anything, humans would be an overwhelming majority. And they are! In the regular world, at least. But at the LA Buzzfeed office, Ryan is the _only_ human.

Unless, of course, Shane is fucking with him.

Which is entirely possible.

 

See, the thing is, Shane won’t tell Ryan what he is. Ryan knows pretty much what everyone else is, either because it’s obvious or because they volunteer that information. For the rare few where Ryan isn’t actually positive, he’s at least got an inkling (Adam, for example, is _something_. Not quite docile but not exactly malevolent, either. He’s _something_.)

But with Shane: nothing. Nada. Zilch.

Ryan doesn’t have the faintest clue. And no one else will clue him in, cuz that’s sort of tactless. If they even know, which Ryan isn’t sure they do.

Part of Ryan hopes Shane is just fucking with him. It’d be nice to have another human around, he thinks, even if it’s just Shane. Shane, who mocks him mercilessly and yet never fails to make Ryan laugh.

A much larger part of Ryan, the kind that’s always been obsessed with the supernatural, hopes Shane is something seriously fucking _cool_.

 

 

“Hey, Steven.”

Steven looks up warily from his phone. It’s understandable. He and Ryan aren’t friends; in fact, Ryan kind of makes it a point to roast the dude on a regular basis. The uncertainty lacing Steven’s features is totally fair.

“I need a favor.”

Immediately, Steven’s lips purse. “No.”

Ryan falls forward with as much grace as he can and balances his elbows on the table in front of Steven. He’s effectively taking up Steven’s personal space, and it’s probably not going to help matters but it can’t hurt, either. “Steven, c’mon.”

“No,” Steven says again, his expression turning a little stormy.

“It’s nothing _bad_ ,” Ryan insists. “I just wanna know what Shane _is_.”

Steven’s hostility melts away but it’s replaced by uncertainty. “He hasn’t ever told you?”

Ryan groans and presses his face against the tabletop. “No! He gets a kick out of stringing me along.”

“What do you want me to do? I’m not a mind reader.” Steven shoves at him lightly.

“Make him tell me!” Ryan turns and looks at Steven just in time to watch any and all sympathy drain from the other man’s expression. If Steven looked stormy before, that was nothing compared to this. His expression is as dark as Ryan has ever seen it. He didn’t actually know someone like Steven, who’s by far one of the kindest people Ryan has ever met, could look this way.

“Fuck off,” Steven hisses as he abruptly stands. “Just,” he starts, stops. The only word to describe the rapid-fire rise and fall of his chest is _seething_. “Go fuck yourself, Ryan.” He storms off, then, leaving Ryan sprawled over the table.

Ryan stares after him, painfully aware of his coworkers looking at him. He’s wondering what he’s done wrong, exactly, when a voice startles him from his thoughts.

“Comfy?” Shane asks as he comes up and leans against the edge of the table.

“Not especially,” Ryan retorts as he pushes up off the table. “I was just trying to get a favor from Steven.”

Shane’s eyebrows jump. “What favor?”

“Uh, to use his powers, for something.” Ryan hedges on telling Shane the whole truth. Either Shane would laugh at him or call him an idiot.

Probably both.

Shane frowns. “Dude.”

“What?” Ryan asks.

“You’re an idiot.”

Ryan rolls his eyes. “What else is new?”

Shane moves from the table to stand in front of Ryan and takes him by the shoulders. His expression is sharp and serious, and he speaks low enough for only Ryan to hear. “You fucked up.”

Ryan’s brow furrows.

“Steven is _insanely_ uncomfortable with using his powers for, like, anything.” Shane’s hands flex on Ryan’s shoulders, warm and grounding, as the realization dawns on Ryan slowly. “Asking him to use his powers on someone is… Christ, Ryan, you _really_ fucked up.”

Ryan gulps. “Well, shit.”

Shane shakes his head in disbelief and his hands finally drop to his sides again. “You need to fix it, ASAP, otherwise Andrew and Adam are gonna have your head on a spike.”

Ryan shudders. “Fuck.”

Shane laughs. “Good luck.”

 

Sure enough, hardly an hour passes before he’s cornered by both of Steven’s boyfriends at once.

“What did you do.” Adam asks. Demands, really. Flat and crisp, piercing Ryan’s chest like a knife. Andrew doesn’t say anything but stands just a step behind with his arms crossed over his chest.

Now, Ryan is pretty sure he could take both these guys in a fight. Maybe. Andrew’s a werewolf, but Ryan’s never known him to be abnormally strong, or anything. He’s still not sure what Adam is, but it’s probably nothing that could hurt Ryan _that_ bad.

“What. Did you. Do?” Andrew grits out when he decides Ryan has been silent too long.

“I—look, okay, I get it, I fucked up.” Ryan leans back against the wall to try and put some distance between him and the other two. “Can you, like, lean back? Jesus.” He feels hot under the collar with shame and he can’t meet their eyes. “I get it,” he says again. “I was gonna apologize. I was just, trying to figure out how.”

Adam’s eyes narrow. Andrew bears his teeth and Ryan definitely isn’t imagining how his canines are a little longer.

“I just asked him for a favor!” Ryan snaps.

Adam’s expression doesn’t change but Andrew’s eyes widen slightly. He can already see a plan forming in his head of how to cheer Steven up.

“You asked him to use his powers?” Adam asks.

Ryan slumps against the wall. “Yes.” He looks up toward the ceiling. “I know it was wrong.” He feels a lot like he’s being scolded by his parents. Which, ugh, _ew_.

“Fix it.” Adam says, once more crowding into Ryan’s personal space. “Or else.”

It’s a rare display of anger from the other man, and Ryan finds himself nodding frantically. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll fix it. Scout’s honor.”

Andrew scoffs, and though he’s grinning he looks no less angry than before. “You were never a scout.”

 

 

The problem is not that Ryan doesn’t feel bad—because he does.

The problem is that he doesn’t know _how_ to fix it.

An apology is obvious, but it also doesn’t feel like enough. Word has spread quickly through the office and Ryan’s been cornered not only by Adam and Andrew, but Garrett, Keith, _and_ Niki as well. All of them made it abundantly clear how badly Ryan fucked up.

But none of them have an idea of how to make this better.

A few days pass, and while Steven seems to be going about his days as though nothing is the matter—he even said ‘hi’ to Ryan the morning before—everyone else is looking at Ryan like he routinely murders puppies.

It’s a problem.

 

 

The idea comes to him part of the way through Wednesday morning. He ends up ducking out for an early lunch even though he’s not even hungry; it’s worth it (ha!) and a necessity. When else is he going to find the time to stop by Bottega Louie?

He picks out a perhaps unreasonable number of macarons. One of each flavor is maybe excessive. All he remembers is Steven raving about them (Andrew and Adam, too, but Ryan isn’t apologizing to _them_ ) and they do look pretty tasty. As they’re packaged up delicately, Ryan watches, enraptured. They look almost too good to eat, too pristine and perfect.

He’s sure Steven will have no issue eating them, though. Which is good, since that’s the whole point.

He gets back to the office just in time to punch back in, and he makes a beeline for Steven’s desk after, box tucked under his arm.

“Steven.”

The other man looks up slowly, wary yet again but this time for an entirely different reason, Ryan thinks. His gaze drifts down Ryan’s body to the soft pink and lavender box. Immediately, his eyes light up.

“These are for you,” Ryan says, shoving the box forward. He’d planned to ask Steven to a conference room, maybe apologize in private, but this works just as well. “As an apology.” He leans in slightly and lowers his voice. Steven isn’t looking at him, too entranced with the box, and Ryan is secretly glad for it. “I was a jackass.”

Steven hums thoughtfully as he peers through the contents. “Yeah,” he says. “You were.”

Ryan blinks. “I’m sorry,” he adds, a little hastily. “I probably should’ve started with the actual apology. I _am_ sorry. This is just… a token, I guess. I didn’t know what else to do.”

When Steven looks up again, there’s a gentle smile gracing his lips. “It’s okay.” He says it softly, so genuine that Ryan actually believes him. “Y’know,” he says as he plucks a macaron from the box. Raspberry, Ryan thinks, in all its unnaturally but tantalizingly pink glory. “Have you tried _asking_ Shane what he is?”

Ryan snorts. “What do you think?”

Steven raises an eyebrow at him as he bites into the macaron. Ryan has seen that same look plenty of times. “I think you’re an idiot, sometimes.”

Dumbfounded, Ryan almost wants to yank the box back—were it anyone else, especially, say, Shane, he would. As it is, he just scowls. “Yes, I’ve asked. And he thinks it’s funny not to tell me.”

Steven hums again. “Adam thinks it’s funny not to tell people, too.” He chews slowly, and he’s clearly savoring the macaron. Ryan’s kind of regretting not getting any to try for himself, but his wallet weeps a little at the thought.

“Yeah, but you know what Adam is!” Ryan doesn’t mention that he doesn’t know, because that’s really neither here nor there.

“Adam and I are dating,” Steven points out, gesturing to Ryan with the half-eaten treat. “It’d be kind of a dick move to not tell me.” He wrinkles his nose then. “It’d be mean, too.”

Ryan shakes his head. “That’s not the point,” he says. “The point is that Shane is,” he falters, swallows. “Shane is my best friend. And I don’t know what he is! Isn’t _that_ weird?”

Steven nods along as slowly as he chewed. He polishes off the macaron and wipes his fingers on his jeans. “I mean, yeah.” He sits back after closing the lid on the box. He taps the top, and says, “Thanks, by the way. Apology accepted. I don’t even want to think about how much it cost to get one of each flavor.”

“Oh, uh, it’s no problem. I had like six separate people threaten me over this, so I knew I had to go above and beyond.”

Steven smiles again.

“Do you think you could, still, maybe, help me? Not with your powers or anything,” Ryan hurries to clarify. “Just. You seem to get this.” He gestures broadly between them, to the office, to some vague direction meant to represent wherever Shane is.

Steven stares back at him blankly for a moment. “Oh.”

“Seriously, not with your powers or anything. But, just. Like. I don’t even know, I don’t even have a plan. I just want to know, because it’s killing me. And everyone else just thinks it’s hilarious like Shane does. I don’t think any of them know what he is either but they still think it’s hilarious that I don’t know.” Ryan pinches the bridge of his nose after he finally manages to cap his word vomit. “You don’t have to, I totally get it.”

“No, I don’t—I don’t mind helping like that. I just don’t know what the best way to do it would be.”

Ryan lets his hand fall to his side again and watches Steven tap thoughtfully at his chin. “Yeah, I’ve tried pretty much anything and everything I can think of.”

“I don’t know what Shane is, either,” Steven remarks, still tapping his chin. “I mean. Have you tried calling his parents?” Steven suggests gently.

Ryan laughs just as carefully. “Uh, yeah. His mom told me to leave it be. Which isn’t ominous at _all_ , or anything.”

Steven’s eyes are wide. “Oh. I wonder—maybe he’s something dangerous.”

Ryan shrugs. “So? Depending on who you ask, everyone here is dangerous. Even me.”

Steven snorts.

“Hey,” Ryan says, though he’s grinning. “I could be.”

“Sure, Bergara.” Steven shakes his head. “Have you made a list and just, used the process of elimination?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, make a list of all the things you think he could maybe be. Then, rule them out. For example, werewolf, super easy. Is he agitated or cagey on days with full moons? Does he actually take his steaks obnoxiously rare? Does he never wear silver?” Steven shrugs. “I mean, it’s kind of stereotypical, but a lot of stuff like that is rooted in truth.”

Ryan nods along. “Yeah, that could. That could maybe work.”

 

 

He makes a list. Shane finds it and laughs at him.

Shane also crosses off three of the fifteen things (werewolf, siren, fae) before handing the list back to Ryan.

“Good start, Scooby.” Shane winks at him before striding off, taking his long gangly self somewhere else.

Ryan stares down at the list, cut down now by one fifth. He nods to himself. He can do this.

 

He gets another two fifths of the way through the list (rules out mermaid, satyr, centaur, banshee, selkie, and lizard person) before it doesn’t matter anymore.

They’re on location for yet another haunted house when it just _really_ doesn’t fucking matter anymore.

Because there’s a demon in the middle of the dingy living room, standing inside a pentagram that Ryan is pretty sure was drawn with blood. It’s browned and faded now, but there’s a lingering metallic taste in the air that even he can catch on his tongue, so, yeah: _blood_.

The demon is at once everything and nothing like Ryan expected. It’s an enormous, shadowy presence. There’s the vague outline of him that Ryan expected: the curl of horns near what must be the head, the thick stumps near the bottom like hooved feet. Then there’s the amber and red eyes shining in the darkness, piercing Ryan to his very core.

He can’t even bring himself to be happy they’ve got proof, because he’s pretty sure they’re all going to die. He wants to apologize, to Shane and TJ and Devlin, and their viewers. Because this is all his fault. And he never even got to find out what Shane is! But thinking that only makes him feel guiltier, and oh _god_ he can’t _breathe_ —

A shadow crosses in front of him and for a split second, Ryan is sure he’s about to be swallowed up by the demon.

Then he hears Shane say, “What the fuck, man?”

Ryan opens his eyes slowly and is bewildered to realize Shane isn’t talking to him. Shane isn’t even looking at him. Shane has stepped in front of him, casting the shadow over Ryan. Shane is staring down this demon head on with his arms spread, as if to protect Ryan.

“Shane?”

“Shh,” Shane shoots over his shoulder. He faces the demon again. “Seriously, man, what the fuck.”

Ryan peers over Shane’s shoulder to see the demon apparently _shrink_. Not like, Ant-Man style or anything. Just, the aura it exudes shrinks, less like overwhelming smoky shadows and more solid, more of a _shape_. Still definitely not human, but less scary, at the very least. Its eyes are still a startling mix of amber and blood red, and Ryan finds he can’t stare at the shape for very long without feeling sick.

He’s huddled impossibly close to Shane to stare over his shoulder, but he can’t even bring himself to care.

“Dude,” Shane says, before launching into something that is _definitely_ not English.

Ryan, at first, thinks his ears might be deceiving him. Maybe he’s just finally gone off the deep end, and he’s actually dead, and none of this is happening. He looks over to his left to see Devlin and TJ huddled into a corner watching with the same stricken looks on their faces, and Ryan feels a little better.

This is happening, then. What this is, that’s still a mystery. But it’s definitely happening.

Ryan tries to listen closely as Shane and the think speak to _each other_ in—tongues, Ryan realizes. They’re speaking in tongues, something he only catches because of the various exorcism tapes he’s listened to. It’s comforting to have some semblance of understanding, but also, knowing his best friend can speak in tongues doesn’t feel like good news.

Shane sighs, and draws Ryan from his thoughts. “Say you’re sorry,” Shane says, and again it takes Ryan a moment to realize Shane is addressing the demon, not him.

In a booming but very much understandable voice, the demon turns to Devlin and TJ first. It booms, **_“S O R R Y”_**

The other two nod rapidly, and TJ even flashes a frantic thumbs-up. Then, the demon turns and peers around Shane to Ryan.

Again, its voice rattles the walls as it speaks. **_“S O R R Y ... D I D  N O T  K N O W”_**

Ryan nods and finally finds his voice again. “No problem, dude,” he replies shakily.

He could swear there’s a flicker of a grin amidst the demon’s partially corporeal form, rows of shiny white dotted with flecks of red. But it's gone as quick as it came, and then so is the demon. Entirely vanished. The air is lighter and Ryan sucks in a greedy breath. Devlin and TJ are already booking it for the front door, and Ryan doesn’t blame them.

He feels frozen to the spot as Shane slowly turns to face him. He’s only a little bit surprised at the sight of his best friend with all black eyes, no pupils or familiar hazel in sight. What’s more shocking is the slight horns protruding from his hairline, small and black and sharp at the point.

Ryan swallows. “So, _that’s_ what you are.”

“You’re handling this really well, I’m proud of you,” Shane says, only half-teasing. He reaches for Ryan slowly and, when not told to stop, grips Ryan by the biceps. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what part, exactly?” Ryan asks as he allows Shane to guide him toward the door. “The demon that appeared? For being a demon yourself? For getting the demon to apologize? There’s a lot to unpack here. I think I’m dying.”

Ryan presses a hand over his chest and sure enough his heart is hammering under his palm like a fucked-up hummingbird.

Shane doesn’t stop until they’re outside. Devlin and TJ are a few feet off, both chattering to each other. They barely spare a glance for Shane and Ryan, and it gives them some semblance of privacy.

“All of it,” Shane answers belatedly. “I should’ve told you sooner, I just didn’t want to ruin the show.” And Shane really does look _guilty_. “And I’m sorry that thing appeared. Normally they stay away—”

“Because of you.”

Shane nods. “Because of me.”

Ryan blinks. “Did you know that guy?” He says as he jerks his thumb at the house behind them. “Because you two seemed awful chummy.”

That gets Shane to crack a smile at least, and something in Ryan’s chest settles. “Yeah, uh, we go way back. He was just stopping by for a visit and thought he’d spook some unsuspecting people. He didn’t realize it was me.” Shane shrugs as if to say, _‘what can you do?’_

“So, uh. Does this mean ghosts are real, too?” Ryan asks after a beat of silence. “And, like, how common are demons exactly? They can’t be _that_ common.”

“They’re not. Not like me, at least.” Shane shifts from foot to foot. “Most of them are like that,” he flaps his hand at the house. “And if I tell you if ghosts are real, that’ll _really_ ruin the show.”

Ryan scoffs, almost just out of habit alone. “Please. We’ve built a show on investigating the paranormal in a world where werewolves and mermaids are an _actual thing_. I think we’re solid.”

Shane stares at him. “Listen—?” Ryan can already see the gears turning in Shane’s head: cancelling the show, or leaving as co-host, because it’s the “right” thing to do. Ryan won’t let either of those things happen.

“No, no, look.” Ryan cuts across him sharply, gratified when Shane actually falls silent. “Don’t tell me about ghosts. We’ll figure it out. Obviously I know demons are real,” he looks Shane up and down pointedly, “but our viewers don’t have to know that.”

“I’m pretty sure most of them already know, but okay.”

“Doesn’t stop them from watching, does it?” Ryan counters.

Shane’s eyes widen slightly, and when he blinks they shift from endless black to their usual brown. “Good point.”

“So, we just keep doing the show. Maybe sometimes you can call up an old college buddy or something to rattle a doorknob, and I’ll scream because it’s fucking terrifying, and then we’ll rake in the views.” Ryan nods to himself. “Sound like a plan?”

Shane breaks into a larger, brighter grin. “Yeah, sounds like a plan.”

 

 

“You’re weirdly okay with this,” Shane says, a reiteration of his sentiment from the night before, as they’re settling into their double bed. They had asked for two single beds when they made the reservation, but the lady at the front desk had kindly told them there was some sort of error, blah blah blah.

“I mean, it’s basically confirming what I always thought was true,” Ryan says from where his face is mushed into his pillow. “And I’ve been trying to figure out what you are for fucking ages, man, so. That’s one thing off my bucket list, or whatever.”

Shane finally settles in on the other half of the bed; he lays on his side to stare at Ryan. “I really didn’t want to ruin the show. I just thought… it’s one thing when people know about the everyday monsters. I thought this would kill it.”

Ryan shakes his head, effectively smothering himself with his pillow. “Nah, it’ll be fine. Nothing has to change.”

He watches Shane watch him.

“You owe me,” Ryan says after a minute. “For like, stringing me along, or whatever. Can’t believe I’ve been right all along.”

Shane’s grin is the last thing he sees before he dozes off; the last thing he hears is, “Sure thing, Ryan.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Shane is a demon. That's chill. Not a problem.
> 
> What _is_ a problem is the fact Ryan's in love with him. 
> 
> Major problem.

“What was his name, anyway?”

Shane looks over, expression dripping confusion. He doesn’t even have to say anything for Ryan to practically hear him calling Ryan an idiot in his head. Ryan doesn’t let this knowledge deter him.

“The demon, at the one house.” The house where all their film had mysteriously gone up in smoke the moment they opened the cameras—literally, the SD cards went up in smoke, like it was some sort of old-timey filmed gag. “You said you guys go way back. Does he have a name?”

Shane snorts and shakes his head. “I mean, yeah. But it’s not anything _human_.”

“So, not like your name.” Ryan turns his head to look at Shane in the opposite hotel bed.

“No, not like mine. Not that Shane is my true name, but, ya know.” He waves a flippant hand. “Shane is definitely easier to say.”

Ryan almost asks. Then decides it doesn’t matter. “Yeah,” he replies noncommittally instead.

Shane raises an eyebrow at him, but Ryan only shrugs.

Shane shrugs back and they both dissolve into laughter.

 

 

“I need your help,” Ryan says to Steven, as is becoming a theme in his life, evidently.

Steven looks up and Ryan is at least glad there’s no longer wariness in the stare. It’s been a couple weeks since Ryan last asked for help—because it’s been a couple weeks since Shane came clean about what he is—and in that intervening time, Ryan would go so far as to say he and Steven have become friends.

“Again?” Steven asks, a touch uncertain. Not the, “I don’t trust you”-uncertainty of old; no, this is, “are you sure”-uncertainty, uncertainty in _himself_.

“Positive. Because this involves something you are apparently super good at.” He gestures to the chair across from Steven and waits for a nod before falling into the seat. “You are dating two of your coworkers.”

Steven pinks immediately. “Uh.” He waits, but when Ryan doesn’t offer anything further, he nods hesitantly. “I mean, yeah.”

“Great. How did you do it?”

Steven blinks back. “Is this about Shane?”

“Yes,” Ryan says quickly, unwilling to spend more time than strictly necessary on that particular revelation that had come to him in the night a few days prior. “How did you do it?”

Steven laughs and it edges on a little hysterical. “It wasn’t—I didn’t—it’s just, _chemistry_.”

Ryan frowns. “I mean, of course you didn’t use your powers,” he says slowly, placatingly. Steven relaxes fractionally. “I just meant… how did you get over the fear?”

“Of?”

“Of ruining your show. Or ruining your friendship. Just, fucking it all up.” Ryan looks down at his hands when Steven’s earnest stare becomes too much.

“Oh,” Steven says again, softer. “It wasn’t easy,” he admits. “I agonized a lot over stuff, but those—those aren’t things you have to worry about.” Ryan watches Steven chew nervously on his lower lip. “I just took a chance, I guess. I had to stop worrying about what might or might not be happening, what might or might not happen in the future, and just _go for it_.”

Ryan nods along. “Great. Awesome.” He’s still nodding when Steven shoots him an unimpressed look. “Uh, I think I’m in love with Shane.”

“Congrats. You’re possibly the last person to know, not counting Shane.”

Ryan glares, even if he knows it’s true. Anyone else he’s mentioned this revelation to (namely TJ and Jen) has given a similar answer.

“You gotta just go for it, dude,” Steven says, cutting through his sour attitude. “There’s no magic trick or, or,” he snaps his fingers, “spell or something. It’s just taking a chance.”

Ryan groans and hides his face in his hands. “I was worried you’d say that.”

 

 

Here’s the thing.

Precisely two nights after the fated demon house and subsequent revelations, Ryan had shot up in bed, in a cold sweat, panicking.

Because it had hit him, _finally_ : he’s in love with Shane.

Has been for a while, actually. As he sat there and panicked, he realized the only thing holding him back was the layer of distrust. The fact that he now knew what Shane was threw what was previously a well-balanced scale of self-denial into chaos.

Ryan couldn’t deny it anymore.

He went back to bed immediately after realizing this, but that doesn’t mean he forgot.

Far from it.

 

 

It’s a real pain in the ass, Ryan thinks as he brushes his teeth and stares at himself in a hotel mirror, to be in love with your best friend-slash-coworker who is also a demon. Well, the demon part surprisingly doesn’t change a lot, other than having opened the floodgates of Ryan’s realization.

But the whole best friend-slash-coworker thing. _That’s_ a fucking pain the ass.

“Move,” Shane mumbles as he stumbles in through the slightly ajar door. He jostles around Ryan while still half asleep, and spreads toothpaste onto his toothbrush on autopilot. Ryan, who’s been up for an hour and is far too amped to be even a little groggy, watches him intently.

“Demons have to brush their teeth too,” Shane mumbles as he lazily brushes. “Going to the dentist is _hell_.”

He grins at Ryan, who rolls his eyes.

“Not your best work,” he says as he slaps at Shane’s shoulder. “But A for effort.” He spits out and rinses his mouth out with mouthwash, rinses off his toothbrush before setting it beside the sink. “We gotta get going in an hour.”

Shane grunts and waves him away, so Ryan shuffles out of the cramped bathroom.

His hand still feels warm from touching Shane, and just for a brief second, Ryan considers cutting off his hand so the feeling will stop.

That seems a little drastic, all things considered. There are probably better ways to handle this.

Now if only he knew what those ways _were_.

 

 

“You don’t even seem scared,” Shane tells him a few weeks later when they’re creeping through a supposedly haunted house. He sounds disappointed, and Ryan almost laughs.

“I mean, this _is_ kind of a weak house,” Ryan admits. He had to find a quick replacement when the demon house ended up being a bust. “Gotta have an episode.”

“You could’ve sat in front of a camera and recounted every detail of the demon house, and your precious Boogaras would’ve eaten up every second even without footage.”

Ryan’s lips twist. “It seemed too risky.” He stares pointedly at Shane.

“Oh.” Shane smiles faintly at him. “Sorry,” he adds.

Ryan shakes his head. “I’d rather—I’d rather have you than the views, dude.” He looks away quickly and thinks about how at least this will be easy to edit around. He’s peeking around a corner to a long stretch of dark hallway when Shane takes him by the elbow; even though he knows it’s Shane, he still yelps.

He whips around to face Shane and finds him smirking.

“Fucking hate you,” Ryan spits without venom.

Shane’s smirk only widens.

 

 

“I wanna see.”

Shane looks up from intently scrolling through Netflix. “What?”

“Your demon form, or whatever. I wanna see.” Ryan plants his feet slightly wider apart, almost like he’s preparing for a physical fight. Not that he expects that to happen, but he thinks this pose makes him at least marginally more menacing.

It doesn’t work on Shane, of course. He only splits into a grin. “You couldn’t handle it, baby.” He drawls out the nickname and Ryan’s skin heats.

“I saw you at the house, with your horns and eyes and shit.”

“That’s only partial,” Shane explains. His gaze has shifted back to the television screen and he’s scrolling again. He’s skipping over plenty of movies they agreed to watch together, which tells Ryan he’s just doing it for something to do. Shane’s sudden spike in anxiety is rolling off him in almost tangible waves. “The full thing… it’s a lot.”

Ryan could push. He could push like he could’ve pushed for the name, and he’s sure he could wrangle it out of Shane. Instead, he walks over and sits on the couch beside Shane. “Show me the partial again, then.”

Shane slowly stops scrolling and sets the controller aside. He looks uneasy, but with a glimmer of hope underneath. “Really?”

Ryan doesn’t focus on that glimmer, whatever it is; hope that Ryan’s serious or hope for something else. “Really. I wanna see,” he says again.

Shane splits into a grin, smaller but still toothy. “Okay, yeah.” Despite the unease on his expression before, he seems excited now. At Ryan’s intrigued stare, Shane continues. “It’s not, like, tiresome to look like this, but.” He shrugs as he looks down at his hands. “It’s sort of like coming up for air, I guess?”

“Jesus, dude, that _sounds_ tiresome.”

Shane shakes his head. “It’s hard to explain. I like this form fine. But being able to shed some of it… it’s nice.”

“Get on with it then,” Ryan goads with an elbow to Shane’s ribs for good measure.

Shane nods. He takes a deep breath and then his eyes flutter shut. For a long moment, nothing happens. Ryan just sits there and stares at his best friend and waits.

Then the air around them ripples slightly, and Ryan blinks as his eyes feel painfully dry all of a sudden. When his eyes open again, Shane’s brown eyes are replaced by endless black and his horns have sprouted at the top of his head.

“Oh, wow.” Ryan breathes it out in an awestruck tone, then cringes. He didn’t mean to sound quite so enamored.

Shane only smirks. “I know, it’s pretty cool.”

“Well, yeah.” Ryan admits it easily, because it is. Being the only human in a workplace full of creatures has made him only slightly bitter, so he can still appreciate cool shit, like this, when he sees it. “Does it hurt, the transformation?”

“Nah. It’s like taking off a jacket.” Shane reaches up and runs a hand through his hair, studiously avoiding brushing his horns. “It’s always a little bit of an adjustment, but it’s never bad.”

Ryan nods along. “What does the full transformation look like?”

Shane side-eyes him before answering. “More like that one at the house.”

“We need a name for him,” Ryan says seriously. “It’s gonna get confusing if we run into more of your old college buddies.”

“Stop calling them that!” Shane insists with a laugh.

“No,” Ryan retorts. Then, “How about we call him Chad? He seemed like a Chad.”

Shane keeps laughing. “Alright, fine. I look more like _Chad_ in the full form.”

Ryan nods again. There’s approximately a couple dozen questions hovering on the tip of his tongue, which is why he says, “So, movie?”

Shane looks startled by the sudden shift in topic. “Uh, sure, let me just—” He gestures to his horns.

“No,” Ryan says again. “Leave it, it’s fine. It’s your apartment, dude.” Ryan leans back and lets the plush if mothy-scented couch practically swallow him whole. Shane stares at him with wide eyes that somehow convey an incredible depth of disbelief for being black holes of nothingness.

Shane nods eventually. “Yeah, okay.”

 

 

It’s there, Ryan thinks, that things finally start to change.

When they’re in the comfort of their apartments, Shane doesn’t bother with a glamor. He lets the horns show and his eyes take on that spooky black. It’s a little disconcerting, but it’s not bad. Sometimes it’s just the horns, and Ryan still gets to see Shane’s human eyes, which is nice. Not that he says as much, or anything, but still. Sometimes it’s just the eyes, and Ryan is man enough to admit it makes him shiver for reasons that aren’t entirely rooted in fear.

It feels like such a small thing, but Shane acts like it’s something enormous.

So maybe that’s why things shift.

Ryan doesn’t really know, and doesn’t really care, if he’s being honest.

He’s just glad they’re getting somewhere.

 

 

“Something changed,” Steven says as he falls into the seat beside Ryan. It’s a three-cushion couch and Steven is sitting unnecessarily close. Ryan isn’t sure if this is just how Steven is all the time, or if being in close quarters for Worth It has addled Steven’s sense of personal space, but he’s come to accept it, regardless.

“Oh?” Ryan asks. He’s engrossed in researching his latest article for True Crime, but he’s painfully aware of how Steven is staring at him.

“With you and Shane.”

Ryan shrugs. “I mean, yeah.” He’d told Steven he figured out what Shane was, and Steven had been almost painfully understanding when Ryan explained he couldn’t reveal it.

“No, something else,” Steven says. “Besides finding out about him.”

Ryan finally looks up. “It’s all connected.”

Steven stares at him and waits.

“I think we’re getting somewhere,” Ryan admits. Somehow, even without speaking, Steven has a knack for getting people to talk. It’s just part of his personality, Ryan thinks, and it’s more than a little overwhelming. In a mostly good way “Like, dunno _where_. But somewhere.”

Steven nods along with a nearly blinding grin. “That’s awesome,” he says seriously. “I’m happy for you.”

Ryan smiles back, not nearly as wide or bright.

“When you two get it all figured out, we should go on a double date.”

Ryan thinks back to Adam and Andrew cornering him, after he’d upset Steven. He doesn’t mention that. Instead, he half-shrugs, half-nods, and says, “Sure.”

 

 

“What would you do if you were found out?” Ryan asks one night in his apartment. They’re wrapping up some subpar—but still sufficiently creepy—horror movie and Shane is devouring the remnants of their popcorn.

The question hits hard enough for Shane to freeze, handful of popcorn poised at his mouth. His mouth, Ryan has noticed recently, that is full of considerably sharper and longer teeth when he’s not hiding behind a glamor. “Uh,” Shane says, letting the popcorn slip between his fingers into the bowl.

“Dude, gross,” Ryan says and points at the bowl.

“I guess… I mean, it’d probably be fine if people at work knew.” Shane speaks slowly, considering. As if every word is a step just shy of a landmine, and he has to tread carefully. “Like, the higher ups know, because they have to. But if Steven or Jen or whoever found out, it’d probably be okay.”

“And if it was the fans?”

Shane’s mouth purses and he looks away. Despite being black and void-like, his eyes are freakishly expressive. Almost moreso than his human eyes. “I dunno. I’ve tried not thinking about it.”

Ryan swallows around the lump that forms in his throat. “You wouldn’t have to, like, go into hiding or something, right?”

Shane sighs. “I don’t know, Ryan. What I do know is there are real demon and ghost hunters out there, and if word spread _that_ far, I could be in danger. _You_ could be in danger.” Shane holds his gaze, heavy and pained. “It’s why I’ve kept it under wraps as long as I have.”

Ryan reaches out and takes the bowl from Shane’s hands; he ignores the man’s token protest in favor of taking hold of Shane’s hands instead. Again, the contact burns, but it fills Ryan with warmth down to his toes. He wonders how much if it is love and how much is just the fact that Shane is a demon. Wonders if it matters at all.

“I wouldn’t let that happen,” Ryan says, seriously. “If it ever got out—I’d do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

Shane’s lips are curling in a smirk, and there’s a joke on the tip of his forked tongue, Ryan can practically see it. Shane surprises him, though. “Thanks, man.”

Ryan smiles back hesitantly. “Can’t let the Shaniacs down,” he says, which isn’t what he wants to say. But what he wants to say is stuck in his throat, in his lungs, and so he swallows it down for a little longer.

“Pretty sure we already let them down with all of this.” One of Shane’s hands breaks away and gestures to his face, horns and all. “But sure, can’t let them down _more_.”

 

 

Idly, Ryan wonders if his life is meant to change when and _only_ when demons attack him. Because once is a chance, twice is just… suspicious.

Worse, this time it’s not even a demon Shane knows, or at least not one he’s friendly with.

Ryan’s flat on his back in another decrepit building—a warehouse, this time, with support beams that look like they might collapse at any second—staring up at an enormous and smoky form. Definitely a demon, but different from Chad. This one is bigger and has no defined shape to speak of. No hint of horns or hooved feet, no claws, no eyes and no smile. Ryan had thought the lack of a face would be less creepy, but he was wrong.

Very wrong.

He can’t move, and he’s pretty sure he’s gonna die. Like, way surer than he was with that whole Chad thing. At least Mark and TJ aren’t here; small favors and all that. The demon had waited until it was him and Shane alone in the warehouse, preparing for their sleepover, to attack.

Ryan’s eyes are fluttering shut. He doesn’t totally remember everything that’s happened so far. It all happened so fast, and nearly immediately he was knocked back and hit his head against something. He manages to raise a hand up to the side of his head and his fingers come away tacky with blood, which is pretty much what he expected.

He lets his hand flop limp at his side again. His ears are ringing, but he’s not sure if it’s because of the unholy screeching that’s happening, or because of the head injury. Doesn’t really matter, he figures.

His eyes are starting to slip shut when the warehouse grows impossibly darker. He can still see faint streaks of moonlight as a second shadowy figure joins the first, and then he’s out.

 

 

He wakes up in a hospital bed. Which, while not his favorite way of waking up, is better than waking up on a gurney. He shudders at the very thought.

“You’re up,” a voice to his right says, startling him. “Sorry, shit, sorry.”

Ryan stares at Shane who looks perfectly fine and healthy. “God, fuck you,” Ryan says.

Shane blinks.

“You look—is my face as swollen as it feels?” Ryan asks. “Fuck you,” he says. “You look like a fucking GQ model. With extra leg.”

Shane laughs and there’s clear disbelief tinging his tone. “Uh, sorry?” He reaches out and takes Ryan’s hand where it sits on top of the covers. “You can be discharged today, they said. It’s not that bad. Buzzfeed’s gonna cover the bills, too.”

Ryan hears the words, but none of them really penetrate the foggy haze around his mind. It might be the concussion he’s sure he has, or maybe it’s the morphine. Probably both.

“I’m sorry,” Shane says again with a different tone than before. This one isn’t a hasty apology for startling Ryan. This is deep and gutted and his hand around Ryan’s tightens for a split second.

Ryan shrugs even as an ache pangs in his shoulder. “Did we at least get some good footage?”

Shane stares at him.  

“Like, I really don’t want this one to be another bust,” Ryan continues. His tongue feels too heavy for his mouth. “I just wanna put out a good episode.”

“Yeah,” Shane says, acknowledging. “We got some good footage. You flying and hitting the wall. I dunno if legal will let us use it, but we can see.”

“Nothing of you, though,” Ryan adds. His eyes are starting to fall shut. “Gotta keep you safe.” His eyes finally close but he doesn’t immediately plunge back into sleep.

He hears a wet laugh fall from Shane’s lips. “Yeah, of course.”

Ryan smiles. “Great,” he says groggily. “Love you,” he manages to add before he’s out again.

 

 

 

When they walk into work holding hands—a week later, having taken time off to recuperate—Steven shoots Ryan two thumbs-up and the biggest, most obnoxious smile he’s ever seen.

Ryan returns it in kind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So Ryan is a little less human than he originally thought. 
> 
> His life is still complicated. Big surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here we are, the last installment of _what a strange magic_! big thanks to everyone who's been enjoying this so far. definitely stay tuned because i have so much planned for this magical creature series as a whole (more stadamdrew fics as well as more shyan fics) and i'm super excited to share them!
> 
> huge thanks to hannah, as always, for beta'ing! a side note: words that are italicized and also in quotations are phone calls; words that are only italicized but are still surrounded by speaker tags, are telepathic communications... hope this makes sense! 
> 
> enjoy!

It starts a week after Ryan gets back to work.

Thoughts that aren’t his own… creeping into his head.

His first explanation is totally rational. Clearly, he’s _finally_ being haunted.

It’s armed with this idea that he confronts Shane just before the end of work one day.

They’ve just posted the episode of Unsolved with the whole ‘Ryan got flung into a wall by a demon’ clip. Legal had ended up letting them use it, even if it was tricky to edit around anything that might give Shane away. It’ll be totally worth it, Ryan knows; the Boogaras are going to flip their shit.

Anyway. Back to the point.

“You think you’re being haunted?” Shane asks, slow and uncertain.

“Yes,” Ryan answers, ignoring the distinct tone of disbelief lacing his boyfriend’s voice. “I can _hear_ people in my head. What else would it be?”

Shane blinks at him. “Ryan, you got concussed. That’s a perfectly reasonable explanation right there.”

Ryan scoffs. “I’ve been concussed before, Shane, and this has never happened.”

“Maybe this is just the one that’s gonna do you in, then,” Shane retorts without heat. He looks around the meeting room they’re in; he eyes the open door spilling their voices into the hallway. “I think we should go back to the doctor, maybe.”

“No way.” Ryan stands his ground even as Shane approaches him. “If I am being haunted, I want to get proof.”

Shane stares. He’s clearly worried, even if his expression is mostly impassive. “Ryan.”

“No!” Ryan says it quick but without heat. “Let’s just see where this goes.”

“This could _kill_ you,” Shane grits out, voice edging into a demonic growl Ryan’s become rather familiar with in recent weeks.

Well, Shane makes a good point.

 

 

“And you said it’s only started recently?” The nurse asks.

Ryan nods. “I had, uh, I got a concussion two weeks back. It started after that, but I didn’t really notice it until I went back to work.”

The nurse hums and looks down at her clipboard. “Can you describe it for me, again?” She asks with such a sweet smile, Ryan doesn’t even feel annoyed at having to explain himself a third time.

“It’s just. Thoughts, inside my head. Thoughts that aren’t mine, for sure. I don’t know where they’re coming from.”

“Is it overwhelming?”

Ryan thinks back. His head is almost entirely quiet right now, which is a relief. He shakes his head. “It’s never that bad, but it gets worse if I’m in a crowded place, I think.”

Which, the more he thinks about it, really doesn’t hold up with his whole ‘he’s being haunted’ theory. A ghost would probably annoy him more when he’s alone, when it’s more likely to drive him totally insane.

“Well, Mr. Bergara, I know it’s noted here in your chart but I’m going to ask anyway.” The nurse looks up at him and her stare is intense. Ryan shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “You’re sure you’re human?”

Ryan blinks. “Uh, yeah. Hundred percent human.”

The nurse hums again and drops her gaze to the clipboard. When she looks up once more, her smile is apologetic. “I’m not so sure, actually.”

 

There’s no real way to test for telepathy. There’s also no real way to test if the head injury brought it on, or if it’s always been there, lurking. But from the moment the nurse suggests it, in that dinky little room, everything clicks into place.

 _Telepathy_. Of course.

When he leaves the doctor’s office that day with a prescription for a telepath-specific anti-migraine medication, Ryan starts to run through recent instances in his head. Walking into the break room at work and being bombarded by thoughts, things that were too garbled to really sparse through but definitely _words_.

It seems silly, but he thinks back to the times when he could practically see the words that were waiting to come out of someone’s mouth. Steven calling him an idiot. _Shane_ calling him an idiot. He goes back further and thinks of instances he always thought were just intuitive—knowing when he was about to be rejected at a bar, knowing when his parents were about to tell him his pet turtle died in the sixth grade. He goes back further and further and all these memories come flooding back to him.

He gets as far as the outside of the clinic and stumbles to sit on the curb near the parking lot. He fumbles for his phone and dials Shane immediately.

 _“Hey, how’d it go?”_ Shane asks the second the call clicks through.

“Uh, good! Good. Not being haunted. They’re pretty sure it’s not brain damage.”

Silence, then, _“You don’t sound okay.”_

“Can you, maybe, meet me at my apartment? It’s kind of big news. And I may be freaking out about it, just a little.”

 _“Jesus, Ry.”_ Shane sighs on the other end. _“Of course, I’ll be there in fifteen?”_

“Bring beer.”

 

Ryan is pacing around his living room when Shane shows up. He doesn’t bother knocking, just lets himself in and leaves the beer on the coffee table. He comes up to Ryan immediately and takes him by the shoulders to steer him toward the couch.

“Okay. Talk to me.”

Ryan inhales slowly, exhales even slower, then says, “So I’m a telepath.”

Shane blinks back. “What.”

“That’s what the thoughts are.” He reaches up and taps his temple. “Other people’s thoughts. The nurse thinks that maybe, maybe the concussion woke up some kind of latent ability? That it’s always been there but it’s always been subdued.” Ryan looks down at his hands and twiddles his thumbs.

“Oh, wow, shit. Okay. You’re not fucking around.”

Ryan looks up to see Shane’s eyes wide, brown and warm and surprised. “Yeah,” Ryan says softly.

“How you feeling?” Shane asks, quieter.

“Okay?” Ryan shrugs. “Freaked out, but okay. Called my mom on the way here and she said she never noticed anything. Google says it’s definitely not _impossible_.” He starts to lean forward and is grateful for Shane to take the hint. Shane opens his arms and tugs Ryan closer. “It’s pretty cool. If I can learn how to control it or whatever.”

Shane nods. “You can practice on me.”

Ryan scoots closer. “Maybe later?”

Shane presses a kiss to the top of his head. “Sure.”

 

 

They don’t try it for a few days. Mostly because Ryan is scared. It’s kind of nerve wracking to grow up your entire life thinking you’re human, then find out one day that’s _not_ the case. Ryan’s sort of struggling with it, and the fact that his coworkers are some chatty motherfuckers does not help. He ends up secluding himself in boardrooms and the Unsolved office just for the sake of having peace and quiet.

People in the office definitely take notice, but everyone steers clear—everyone except for Steven. Because of course.

Steven finds him three days after his doctor’s appointment; he corners him in an empty meeting room and looms over him so that Ryan has to crane his neck to look up at him.

“Is everything okay?” Steven asks without beating around the bush. He quickly falls into the seat beside Ryan and looks at him so earnestly, it hurts.

“Yeah,” Ryan replies. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Steven’s brow furrows. “Because you’ve basically been MIA for the last three days.”

Ryan shrugs. “Just need some peace and quiet.”

Steven stares at him a little longer and Ryan looks away, unable to handle the scrutiny.

“I, uh, may not be totally human,” Ryan finally admits. Steven’s innate ability to get people to talk not waned in the slightest. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Steven lean forward with interest. “Telepath.”

Steven’s eyes widen and his mouth drops open. “What?”

“We think the concussion I got on the last Unsolved trip is what caused it. Like, it’s always been there, but this… woke it up, or whatever.”

“That’s so cool!” Steven exclaims immediately, before cringing. “Sorry, this is probably weird for you.”

Ryan, despite it all, smiles. He laughs and shakes his head. “Uh, yeah. Super weird.”

“But cool?” Steven probes.

Even though he hasn’t tried exercising his powers, Ryan nods. “Yeah, cool.”

 

Something about his conversation with Steven is the push he needs. So at the end of the work day, Ryan shoots Shane a text.

**to [shane]  
** _can I come over tonight?_

**from [shane]  
** _course. wanna do takeout?_

**to [shane]  
** _hell yeah_

Ryan doesn’t tell him what he wants to talk about. Something tells him Shane will figure it out easily enough. He slips his phone back into his pocket and finally leaves the boardroom he’s been holed up in all day. He returns to his desk and isn’t surprised to see the office is mostly clear of people; his workday ran a little late, partially by design.

He shoves whatever he’ll need for the weekend—work laptop, notepad full of ideas for the next few episodes, his favorite pair of nice headphones that he likes to steal from the office—into his backpack. He slings it over his shoulder and looks around, knowing full well how suspicious he looks. No thoughts are creeping into his head as he escapes the office and makes it to his car, and that’s all he really cares about.

Shane is ready and waiting at the door by the time he gets to his apartment. There’s the scent of Chinese food drifting through the open door, and as Ryan hurries into the apartment, he sees two beers already waiting for them.

“Wanna eat first, or…?” Shane asks.

“Eat first, definitely.”

They settle themselves on the couch and both reach for their boxes of food—Shane knows Ryan’s favorite like the back of his hand by now, just like he knows to get an extra-large order of his own to account for Ryan sniping bites from his container.

“You can take off the glamor, by the way,” Ryan murmurs as he spears a bite of sweet and sour chicken on a fork.

Shane hesitates for a split second, but then the energy around him ripples around him. The glamor dissipates and settles to reveal his horns and black eyes, and when he opens to take a bite, light glints off his slightly elongated teeth.

They eat in silence for a few minutes, and it’s so close to normal, Ryan can feel himself relaxing. He sinks into the couch the more he eats, and inch by inch scoots closer to Shane. Before long, Shane is plucking the takeout container from his hands and setting it on the coffee table along with his own.

Shane’s arms encircle him, and it’s so smooth Ryan almost doesn’t feel anxious to open his mouth. Shane beats him to it anyway.

“How do you wanna do this?” Shane asks softly.

“Uh. Think of a number between one and ten?” Ryan fires back. Shane’s laugh rumbles against him; his voice always seems deeper when he drops the glamor, and Ryan’s been meaning to ask about it. He tucks the thought aside for later. “Seriously, go for it.”

“Okay.” Shane hums to himself as he thinks, and Ryan’s eyes flutter shut in the meantime. “Okay, got it.”

Ryan nods and keeps his eyes closed. His focuses his thoughts on Shane. On his breathing, on his heat; he tucks his face against Shane’s neck and tries to keep his own breathing steady. He can’t see anything behind his eyelids but blackness. The television isn’t on and Shane’s isn’t saying anything. The longer they sit there, the readier Ryan is to give up and call this a bust.

And then—

_This is taking a while._

“Sorry I’m not a proficient mind reader after exactly four days of knowing about this power.” Ryan mumbles against Shane’s neck.

Shane makes a confused noise.

“You said this was taking too long.”

Shane shoves at Ryan until they’re far enough apart that Shane can look at him. “Ryan, I didn’t _say_ anything.”

Ryan blinks. “You didn’t?”

“No,” Shane says with a laugh. “Okay, let’s try again, yeah? I’m gonna think about that number real hard until you get it.”

Ryan shuts his eyes again. It doesn’t come any quicker to him, but it feels a little more like he knows what he’s searching for this time. In the back of his mind, he can practically feel the tendril of Shane’s thoughts, just out of reach. He can’t visualize it, but he knows when he’s snagged the little tether.

_Seventeen. Seriously, what’s taking so long?_

“The weirdest part is I hear it in your voice,” Ryan says absently. “And I said between one and ten!” Shane only shoots him a shit-eating grin, and Ryan shakes his head fondly. “Don’t care for that sarcasm, by the way,” Ryan says with a small grin. He opens his eyes to see Shane smiling back at him.

“It would’ve been too much like luck for you to get it right if I stuck between one and ten. Had to mix it up a bit.”

Ryan rolls his eyes, but kisses Shane anyway.

They spend the rest of the night like that, going back and forth. Somehow, three hours manage to pass before their eyes start to droop.

“We should get to bed.”

_Okay._

Shane startles hard enough to wake Ryan up, and he blinks away the sleep blearily. “What’s up?” Ryan asks as he rubs sleepsand from his eyes.

“I heard you, in my head.”

 _That_ wakes Ryan up properly. “What?!”

Shane nods. “I said we should get to bed, and you said okay. But, inside my head.”

“Oh my god.” Ryan’s head lolls back and he stares at the ceiling. “That’s… kinda cool.”

Shane hums in agreement. “We really should get to bed though.” He clambers off the couch first, then holds out a hand to Ryan.

They stagger off to bed together, haphazardly stripping out of their clothes as they go. They take turns in the bathroom, as it’s definitely too small for two people to cram in there at once, and then they’re toppling onto the covers together.

“So I was thinking,” Shane starts as they get comfortable.

Ryan makes a curious if wary noise.

“We could totally use that whole, ‘you in my head thing’ to our advantage.” Shane shifts closer and Ryan pillows himself against Shane’s chest. “Like, imagine the possibilities.”

“Such as?” Ryan asks around a yawn.

“Why don’t you read my mind and find out?” Shane taunts, laughing when Ryan pinches at his side in retaliation. “C’mon, one last round before bed.”

Ryan cracks open an eye. “Fine.” He settles in again and gets plenty comfortable. He wonders for a second if he’ll actually doze off before he manages to latch onto Shane’s thoughts but no such luck.

“Telepathic sexting?” Ryan snaps as he sits up and glares down at Shane, who’s wheezing. “I hate you so fucking much,” Ryan says, even as his heart skips a beat watching Shane laugh. When it doesn’t seem like the mirth will die down any time soon, Ryan reaches out and skirts his fingertips over the edge of one of Shane’s horns.

Shane chokes on his next laugh and lets out a shuddering breath. “Fuck, Ryan.”

“Nope,” Ryan says, popping the ‘p’ sound. “Sleep.”

“Okay,” Shane says, voice still shaking as Ryan’s hand pulls away from his horn. “I deserve that, I guess.”

Ryan presses an unapologetic kiss against Shane’s sternum.

 

 

Things smooth out pretty quickly after that. Ryan keeps practicing with Shane, and then he asks to practice with Steven—who is all too happy to help, and even ends up roping Andrew and Adam into it, albeit reluctantly. Ryan practices shutting out thoughts and letting only specific people in; he practices distance and gets a range on his powers (pretty fucking far is the best estimation) and after a while, he doesn’t even have to close his eyes to do it.

He reports it to management, just a change in his file, but he walks out of the office feeling jittery.

Shane catches him on the way to their desks. “Everything good?”

Ryan nods. “Yeah, it went fine. No big deal.”

Shane smiles and wraps an arm around Ryan’s shoulders. _Great. Lunch?_

Ryan rolls his eyes. “Yeah, lunch sounds good.”

“C’mon, it’s no fun if you don’t do it back!”

 _Shut it._ Ryan jabs Shane in the ribs gently. “It’s _just_ as fun,” he argues.

Shane shakes his head. “Not even remotely.”

 

 

_Whooooo, spooky shit, whoooooo!_

“Shane, I swear to god,” Ryan snaps.

Shane holds up his hands innocently. “I didn’t even say anything!”

Ryan can feel the muscles in his jaw twitching as he clenches his teeth. He hasn’t told their adoring fanbase about his latest development, but Shane has been taking full advantage of it in terms of filming. Namely, being a dickhead while Ryan’s trying to talk or otherwise ghost hunt.

“You’re a dick,” Ryan tells him with a light shove.

_Have you ever thought about fucking in one of these places?_

Ryan splutters indignantly at the camera. “Okay, okay, _cut_.” A few feet away, TJ rolls his eyes. “Shane.” Ryan says, rounding on him. “What the fuck.”

Shane shrugs. “You’re just so easy, Ryan.” He winks for good measure, and Ryan wants to strangle him.

“Can you knock it off for at least five minutes please, so I can get through this bit?” He waggles the spirit box in hand and watches Shane heave a great, heavy sigh.

“Fine. Five minutes.”

The cameras start to roll, and even as he turns the spirit box on, Ryan’s gaze flicks to Shane. Will all the venom he can muster, he thinks—

_God, I hate you so much._

Shane simply smirks. _No you really, really don’t._


End file.
